


The Hunter and the Hunted

by hschewtschenko



Category: Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gray Jedi, Jedi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22665865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hschewtschenko/pseuds/hschewtschenko
Summary: Short on credits and desperate for a payday, Din takes a job from one of his contacts within Republic Security. The job is simple; find the quarry and bring him in hot. The job becomes a lot more complicated when Din runs across a fellow hunter with a dark history. Forced to push his boundaries, Din must learn to trust someone who deals in secrets and lies.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter One: The Stranger With the Credits

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my story! 
> 
> This story takes place just after season one of The Mandolorian and shows the dark side of the New Republic. I hope you enjoy. Please leave a comment after you finish each chapter.

Chapter One: The Stranger With The Credits

Crowded placed made Din uncomfortable.

He sat in the corner of the cantina half cloaked in dim yellow light watching those around him. Most of the cantina’s patrons paid the bounty hunter no mind, they were used to his kind. Half were too drunk to be bothered by the Mandalorian's presence. Din preferred it like this; he liked to keep others at bay.

For the past hour, Din drummed on the side of his empty mug. Din was scheduled to meet with an old contact from his days within the guild but the contact was late. The contact, Kalris, was a spymaster for the New Republic. Normally Din didn't like spies, he would rather know the person he was dealing with and not have to wade through lies and cover stories. But between Din’s desperation for credits and a ship in need of fuel, Din had no choice.

Din glanced over his shoulder once more as the cantina doors wheezed open. In walked a tall man cloaked in heavy beige robes that were weighed down by rain. The man could easily pass for a farmer; his clothes held no significance and he carried a simple farmer’s blaster. The only notable aspect of the newcomer was the long jagged scar on the side of his face. The scar started at the man’s left eyebrow and extended down to his jaw. It was faint in some areas but around his eye, it was a white marred mass of flesh.

The man’s face remained stoic as he looked around the cantina. When his organic and cybernetic eye fell on Din the corner’s of the man’s mouth turned into a smirk. 

Silently, Din nodded at his old contact. Din hadn’t seen Kalris for almost three years and little changed about the spymaster. Kalris still had ahead of dark hair and the same inviting brown eyes. Din watched as Kalris wove his way through the crowded cantina towards Din’s booth.

“Kalris,” Din said in a curt voice.

“Mando,” Kalris’s voice still held the same strange accent, “It is good to see you, old friend.”

Beneath his helmet Din smirked, “Do you have friends?” 

“Only ones that can kill me as quickly as I can kill them,” Kalris replied as he slid into the booth. Kalris placed his blaster on the table and laid his arm across the back of the booth. 

Din wasn’t sure if Kalris was trying to look casual or if he truly felt no danger. Din never saw Kalris in the field but stories of the spy master’s prowess reached the Outer Rim. Kalris was ruthless when it came to his job and Din knew that if Kalris had a job for him the payout would be worth it. 

Din turned towards the Tw’lek cantina waitress and motioned for her. The purple-skinned Tw’lek nodded and hurried over and placed two mugs of beer on the table. After their orders were placed the two men fell into a comfortable silence. 

“You didn’t call me here to have a drink,” Din wanted to get straight to the point. 

One of the reasons why Din liked Kalris was his practicality. Like Din, Kalris had the same paranoia and skepticism towards other people. It’s what made him a good spy; by the time he walked into the room Kalris figured out every way he could be killed and every way he could kill someone else. 

Kalris shook his head, “No, I didn’t. That would be a waste of both of our time and besides, you’ve never been one for friendly meetups.”

Kalris shifted and placed his arms on the table. He took his mug into both hands and leaned forward, “I have a job for you.”

From beneath his helmet Din arched an eyebrow. Normally, jobs weren't what Kalris searched for. Kalris would simply pay for information, the two would discuss what was going on within the New Republic, and that would be it. 

“Your kind doesn’t hire mine,” Din pointed out. 

Kalris nodded in agreement. He raised his mug to his lips and took a ravenous gulp before placing it gently on the table.

“Officially my kind doesn’t exist,” Kalris pointed out, “but that’s just semantics. If you choose to take this job there would also be credits for your secrecy. This wouldn’t be for the New Republic, this would be for me. No one, not even the guild, can know about this.” 

It was unlike Kalris to operate outside of the New Republic. He was a spymaster who toed the line and did whatever he could for the benefit of the Republic. Personal game and personal interest didn’t seem to be of concern to him.

Din nodded, “I understand.”

Kalrs hunched his shoulders slightly and ran a finger along the side of his mug, “It’s come to my attention that X’jan Stoma is operating in the Outer Rim. Stoma’s been on my radar for a while now; he’s a Jedi hunter who used to take his orders directly from Palpatine. Officially, the New Republic believes he was executed along with the rest of Imperial High Command, but my intel tells me says otherwise. I need Stoma found and brought in hot.”

Din knitted his eyebrows together and asked, “Why isn’t the New Republic asking me to do this?” 

Kalris sat up and sighed, “My superior’s believe we already handled him. But, with the recent incident with Moth Gideon, we both know some mistakes were made. Normally I would give this assignment to someone else but this is a mistake I can’t afford to go on for any longer.”

“So you want me to clean up your mess,” normally, Din wouldn’t question Kalris; he knew the spy was good for the credits and was fighting for what he believed was right. But Din didn’t want to get involved with the New Republic. That was too dangerous for himself and the Child. But Din was desperate for credits.

“Essentially,” Kalris answered as he finished off his drink, “Officially this contract never exists and I’m not here. This job is for me, not the Republic. New Republic Command can and will never find out about this.”

Din felt the threat woven in Kalris’s words. Din gave Kalris a curt nod as Kalris reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a datapad and a beacon. 

“Everything you need to know is in here,” Kalris slid the datapad across the table towards Din, “It contains every piece of information I have on Stoma as well as a list of last known locations. I would start with Nar Shaddaa; it’s a fugitive’s haven. As soon as you find Stoma send me a message only from here. It will send to this,” Kalris pointed to his cybernetic eye, “But if you don’t activate the datapad in thirty days it will self destruct. I can’t have this information getting out to just anyone.”

As Din tucked the datapad into his pack Kalris pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and pressed a few buttons on his small datapad. A moment later Din felt his communication device on his wrist vibrate. Din looked down and his eyes gapped at the number he saw. 

“The rest will come later,” Kalris promised. “Do we have a deal?”

Din knew the risks but six thousand credits were too good of an offer to pass up. It would allow for comfortable living for himself and the Child but something still didn’t feel right. Din pushed the paranoia out of his mind and nodded as he snatched the beacon and credits off of the table. 

“We have a deal.” 

Kalris nodded curtly as he pulled his hood over his dark curly hair, “Excellent,” he slid out of the booth and tossed a few credits onto the sticky table, “One last thing, the Zarbak in the corner has been watching us. Be careful on your way out.”

Silently, Kalris slipped away from the booth towards the cantina door. He was gone as quickly as he entered leaving Din alone at the table.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! 
> 
> Here's chapter two! My goal is to publish two chapters a week - one at least. Enjoy! This is your first taste of Mara. Let me know what you think.

Chapter Two: An Unintentional Meeting 

The tracking beacon took Din and the Child to the ecumenopolis of Nar Shaddaa. Nar Shaddaa was a paradise for smugglers, spice traders, and the hut cartels that ruled the outer rim. Din visited Nar Shaddaa a few times before and each time he always left feeling dirty. 

Nar Shaddaa would be crawling with guild members or former members. Taking the child off the ship was not an option so Din recruited the help of Cara who seemed less than pleased. 

“I’m not playing babysitter to the kid,” Cara argued as she awkwardly held the Child on her lap. Cara didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. For the former shock trooper, holding a child was just as awkward as wearing a dress.

The Child, who was ignorant of the argument, gurgled happily as he levitated a ball. Cara scowled as she muttered something about not surviving the empire to turn into a babysitter under her breath. 

Din let out a sigh, “I just need you to watch the Child for a few hours. My contact said the first place to look for X’jan is here. We can’t bring the child into a bar.” 

Cara subconsciously bounced the child a few times on her knee as her face twisted into a scowl, “I don’t trust spies.” 

“Kalris isn’t too bad,” Din muttered as he strapped his vapor riffle to his back. 

“You’re blinded by the credits,” Cara spat as the Child cooed and reached for a strand of her hair, “Stop that!” 

The Child, who was used to Cara’s brash nature, just giggled and tired his giant eyes towards Din. Din looked at the odd pair and sighed, “The money’s too good to ignore. Besides, you’re getting a cut of it.” 

Cara stood and placed the Child in her empty seat, “I still don’t like the idea of you wandering into Nar Shaddaa hunting what could very well be a ghost without backup.” 

“Yeah,” Din replied, “but someone has to watch the kid.”   
As the door to the Razor’s Crest opened Cara called after Din, “If you’re not back in three hours I’m leaving this little wamp rat alone and coming after you!” 

-8-

Nar Shadda was the backwater of the galaxy. 

It seemed as if on every corner there was someone begging. Children, the disfigured, and the elderly all seemed to be equally forgotten amongst the neon lights. Whether they were begging for spice, a job, or credits the citizens begged. Many of their cries and pleading fell on deaf ears. There was once a time where a place like this would be a popular stop for Din, but that was a different life. 

Din found the bar down a damp alleyway not too far from the trading stalls. The neon sign hummed softly as a drunk Chiss swayed outside the door. The Chiss was singing an old Imperial drinking song under his breath as he took a long swig from a brown bottle. He was dressed in dirty faded white Imperial regalia. Din wondered what the Chiss did to earn the bars strapped on his lapel.

Din pushed the Chiss aside and stepped into the tightly packed bar. The bar smells of stale beer and sweat. Two Twe’lek girls danced in cages at either end of the bar while a tall Chagrian worked the bar.

Din shoved his way to the front of the bar and leaned against the sticky brown countertop. Suddenly Din was grateful for his leather gloves. 

“A Mandalorian,” the Chagrian clicked, “I haven’t seen one of your kind in close to one hundred years,” he placed the glass he was leaning on the bar and leaned forward, “What can I do for you?” 

There was a slight snarl in the Chagrin’s tone. The male’s pale blue features looked weathered from age and the stresses of Nar Shadaa. One of his once-proud horns was broken in half. The other was pierced with a single thick gold hoop. He was massive, nearly a head taller than Din and about twice as wide.

Din reached into his pocket, took out a few credits, and slid them across the bar, “Cornelian whiskey, neat” 

The Chagrin nodded and began fixing Din his drink, “Be careful around these parts. Especially with such shiny armor; you might wake up in a dumpster naked,” the warning came with a slight mock.

“Thanks for the tip,” Din muttered as he took a swig of the whiskey.  
“If one of your kind is in my bar it must mean trouble,” Chagrin nodded towards the door, “If I were you, friend, I would leave.” 

Before Din could question the warning the sound of a mocking snort broke their conversation. Din glanced to his right and saw a short human woman standing at the bar. She was dressed in the dingy leathers of a smuggler. 

“Argus,” she spoke in a voice that seemed almost too soft, “Is this how you treat all newcomers?” 

The Chagrin glanced at the woman and scowled, “What do you want Mara.” 

The woman, Mara, shrugged her shoulders and tapped a gloved finger against her empty glass, “I just find it interesting that you’re treating this newcomer with such hostility. I mean look at his armor,” she ran her hazel eyes up and down the beskar with great curiosity, “anyone with armor like that must have a few good stories.” 

Argus muttered something under his breath before scowling, “Watch him get robbed if you’d like,” he motioned to the full bar, “I have a bar to maintain.” 

Before Mara or Din could say anything else Argus shuffled off. Mara turned towards the bounty hunter and offered an apologetic look, “Don’t mind Argus. Things have been stressful around here since the New Republic clamped down its security. Normally he would talk your ear off,” she gestured to his armor, “it’s not often we see one of your kind here.”

“I haven’t seen any New Republic guards,” the modulator took all the emotion from Din’s voice. 

“Good,” Mara leaned forward and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar, “If you noticed them then they wouldn’t be doing their jobs.” 

She helped herself to another glass of whiskey before topping off Dins. Din glanced down at his now full glass and asked, “Won’t Argus be upset?” 

Mara shrugged her shoulders as she swirled the amber liquor around her glass, “Argus owes me a few favors. He won’t notice if I cash in a few of those now.” 

Mara took a small sip of her drink before asking, “So, what could lure one of your kind out here? Royal bounty or are you running away from something?” 

Both, Din thought to himself. He glanced at the woman from beneath his visor and noticed the rather expensive looking communication device in her ear. 

“Information,” Din answered simply as he finished his drink. He was thankful Argus gave him a straw.   
Mara’s plump lips pulled into a smirk, “Well my beskar clad friend, you’re in luck.”


End file.
